


Admiring the Scenery

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Tower, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Getting Together, Humor, Jealous Steve, M/M, Minor Jane Foster/Thor, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Steve POV, mutual obliviousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Steve’s used to people checking him out, but when Tony does it, it feels… different.





	Admiring the Scenery

Steve remembers that first time. It was on the Quinjet: Natasha piloting, Loki subdued, and Tony Stark right in his face.

It hadn’t been a good start for him and Tony, and Steve still remembers how quick he’d been to anger, and how that only surprised him after the fact. Showboats weren’t new to Steve after all; he’d known plenty where he came from, even before the war. Yet Tony scraped hard like sandpaper, an emblem of everything that was wrong in this new world that Steve didn’t want but had been tossed into.

Anyway.

Tempers were fraying, Tony kept saying things he knew Steve wouldn’t understand beyond the insult in their tone (“What’s your thing, pilates?”), and Steve had thought to himself: _Ah, there it is_. Tony Stark was a dick and a problem. Steve’s impression must’ve been mutual, too, because Tony seemed constantly on the verge of flight, which had nothing to do with the suit he was wearing.

But then, a moment. A split-second of Tony’s eyes flicking downward, no doubt drawn by the very provocative lines of Coulson’s redesigned Cap suit. Steve thinks Tony didn’t even realize he was doing it until it was done, and Tony quickly averted his face with a subtle curl of his mouth.

It wasn’t deliberate, and it wasn’t done to make Steve uncomfortable. Steve knows what _that_ is like, unfortunately, and in this specific case the only one uncomfortable was Tony. Honestly, Tony being momentarily distracted by Steve’s ass didn’t even rank in the Top Ten Worst Things about Tony Stark that Steve was composing in his head, so he set it aside and forgot about it.

For a while, anyway.

 

* * *

 

“So here’s the thing,” Tony says. “I can’t say I’m all that interested in taking in so many of SHIELD’s hand-me-downs. What’s the point? What’s in it for me?”

“Our abiding gratitude,” Steve says. “And a live audience for every new suit that you debut.”

“I’m offended that you think that might work.”

“Look, fair’s fair. If you get to have Bruce, I get to have Clint.”

“You’re already getting Natasha,” Tony points out.

“Clint and Natasha are a matched set. You know that.”

“Do I?”

Steve’s known from the start of this conversation that Tony will say yes. _Of course_ he’s going let Clint move into the tower, if only because he’s got his eye on calling it the Avengers Tower and Clint, for better or worse, is an Avenger. That doesn’t make everything Steve’s been saying useless, though. This is negotiation for the sake of it, the both of them nursing their individual coffees and sitting comfortably at a window in said tower overlooking Lower Manhattan.

There’s no rush here either. Tony’s dressed down, in dark jeans and a bandshirt that Steve makes a mental note to look up on the internet later. It probably means that Tony has no urgent business for the time being, which means that Steve doesn’t have any urgent business either.

“Seems like it’d be more trouble to keep ‘em both,” Tony says. “Too many ex-SHIELD under one roof gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Then why’d you let Maria in?”

“Because she asked nicely, and she asked first.”

“So you’re saying that if Clint asks nicely, he has a 50-50 chance of making it?”

“Clint asking nicely? That would be day.” Tony laughs. “Look, Maria’s already tetchy about this enterprise. She thinks we’re asking for trouble, literally.”

“Asking from who? Fate?”

“Yeah. The more of us are gathered back together, the more we’re sending an invitation to the universe to give us something _to_ fight.”

“Sure, which is why there are no standing armies left anywhere in the world.”

Tony grins. “Someone’s gonna scrub your mouth out with soap one day.”

“Love to see ‘em try.”

It should feel surreal for Steve to be living in Stark Tower on his own volition and, in the couple of weeks that that’s been the case, only wanted to wring Tony’s neck once. (When Tony took a stab at the Dodgers, making it a perfectly sensible reaction on Steve’s part.) But then again, big changes just seem to be par the course for Steve’s life, and Tony turning out to be a semi-decent person to live with is one of the nicer things to discover about the world.

“We can mop up Hydra faster if there are more of us,” Steve says.

“Or if one of us can convince Bruce to actually leave the building.” Tony sighs. “If Clint moves in I’m going to have to make arrows. _Arrows._ ”

“I don’t know, arrows seem pretty low effort in comparison.”

“SHIELD are just the worst to make things for.” Tony takes an angry sip of his coffee, and makes a face when he discovers he’s almost empty. “Present company exempted.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“That’s only ‘cause you’re attached to a frisbee. Can’t do anything for a man like that.”

“Actually, I was thinking about gauntlets.” Steve reaches behind the bench for his satchel, pulling out his sketchbook. “I need better mobility in my wrists, so I have some ideas.”

“That’s all I am to you, isn’t?” Tony sets his cup aside. “You’re using me, Rogers. I am being used and I don’t—oh wow, that looks great, give it here.”

Steve places the book into Tony’s grabby hands, and tries not to feel self-conscious at Tony’s scrutiny of his pencil sketches. Steve’s done design work for his suits in the past, but those are just ideas, and it’s people like Tony who put it together and make it work. Steve read Tony’s file ages ago but he hadn’t understood – not until he came here and saw the workshop for himself – what it actually meant for Tony to be a craftsman.

“I want to commission you,” Tony says.

Steve starts. “For what?”

“My old suits. I want you to draw them.” Tony starts to turn the page, pauses for Steve’s reaction, and proceeds when Steve nods. “Did I tell you I lost some of them when my house went under? I still have the designs but there’s no point in fabricating them all over again.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Sure, I’d be happy to. I can do it from footage.”

Tony nods. He’s still flipping through the sketchbook, over pages that have nothing to do with the gauntlet or other costume ideas, with a small frown of concentration that breaks occasionally with surprise.

“What would that cost me?” Tony asks.

“Clint gets to move into the tower,” Steve says.

“Wow. _Wow._ ” Tony lifts his head up and stares at him. “Fine. You drive a hard bargain, Rogers.”

“But I will get us more coffee.” Steve reaches around Tony to grab his mug and stands up. “Load it up?”

“Yep.” Tony’s face is angled down, seemingly in study of the sketchbook on his lap, but from Steve’s vantage point he catches the way Tony’s eyes slide sideways, quick and fleeting. That’s Tony registering that his eye level’s at Steve’s waist, where Steve’s shirt has ridden up a little in the sudden movement.

Tony tilts his head a little, almost as if saying to himself – _God bless America_.

When Steve walks over to the carafe, he smiles and shakes his head. That’s Tony.

 

* * *

 

Here’s how it is.

When Steve agreed to Project Rebirth, he’d understandably only been thinking about the greater picture. Get out there, make a difference, help end the war. He’d been raring to go from day one, but truth be told, he hadn’t been _ready_ from day one.

The show pony interlude was frustrating, but it gave him time to figure things out. Namely, navigating the new body he’d been given.

It’d taken a couple of days to get his balance under control, weeks to stop breaking things by accident, and longer still to stop thinking of it like a suit he was wearing. Basic skills, but also critical skills. It’s thanks to that pause that by time he went after Bucky, he could do it without tripping over his own feet.

But getting used to wearing the body was just a part of it. The other part was getting used to how other people reacted to that body. After a whole life of being ignored and passed over, Steve had to deal with getting a permanent spotlight, and not just the one on a stage. Steve’s always tried his best to polite, but some of the reactions he’d gotten for doing nothing more than standing around had been quite the challenge.

That took getting used to, but he managed it.

Funnily enough, coming to the future helped with that, in a way. The 21st century is a brand-new world with brand-new expectations, and people for the most part have better and healthier living options. Basically, Steve’s seen many more ‘normal’ people who look as fit or even fitter than he does, and although he still stands out, it’s not to the degree he once did. It’s nice.

There’s also the fact that the fantastical are everywhere now, too. Steve may be an unusual specimen, but he’s not the only one. Maybe that’s why he came back to New York and tried his luck with Tony. The handful of times they’ve gone out on missions together (he uses the term loosely) Steve had gotten a hell of a kick over Iron Man getting just as much gawping from people as he did in the new Cap suit.

The baseline has shifted, and Steve can almost pretend that he’s a regular guy.

Sure, he still gets attention when he goes out in civvies, but it doesn’t feel as charged as it once did. Aesthetic appreciation has always been a human thing and, in Steve’s case, it’s almost become background. Most of the time it isn’t even about him, and that’s fine. Steve likes looking at beautiful things, too.

Then there’s Tony, who very much has an eye for the striking, as anyone who’s seen his Iron Man suits can attest to.

It’s only in retrospect that Steve can appreciate Tony’s response to him back when they were dealing with the Tesseract situation. Steve understands now the reasons for Tony’s dislike (his Captain America baggage, his distrust of Fury, his skepticism with the idea of a team) but there was also a smaller, shallower pebble sitting upon that mountain of dislike. Namely, that despite Tony’s stubborn thinking the worst of Steve, his eye insisted on noticing Steve’s assets. Boy oh boy, did that make Tony mad.

It’s hilarious, looking back on it now.

But Steve tries to be gentleman. He didn’t call Tony out on it then, and there’s been no reason to bring it up since. They’re in a better place now, anyway, built on the twin pillars of shared battlefield experience and shared bullheaded resolution to ignore all the previous awkwardness between them.

The fact that Tony’s subtle appreciation has continued since? It’s just another aspect of his personality.

A guy with Tony’s reputation, you’d think he’d leer at people. Roving eyes and pushing into their personal space – Steve’s familiar with that, too, and has traded way too many stories with Natasha. But no, Tony’s admiration is never overt, and better yet, it’s _deliberately_ not overt, so not to make the other person uncomfortable.

Hence, this habit is easily compartmentalized with his other traits: his brilliance, his stubbornness, his resilience, his tendency to go off-script whenever it suits him. Tucked in between all of those, is his tendency to sneak appreciative glances of Steve’s person whenever the opportunity arises.

It’s flattering and harmless, and Steve doesn’t think too much of it beyond being amused that Tony doesn’t even seem to realize that Steve knows he’s doing it. Tony may be a genius, but he certainly has his blind spots.

 

* * *

 

Maria Hill might have a point about Fate paying attention, because not a week after Clint moves into the tower, grumbling all the way (mostly at Steve and/or Hydra for destroying his job security), Thor returns from Asgard.

Loki’s scepter, which was lost after the Battle of New York, needs to be found. Thor is at first annoyed that they don’t already have a way to find it, but he lights up at Tony’s invitation to stay around while they figure it out. (“It would be nice to see more of Midgard when not in battle,” he says.)

All Avengers are here and accounted for.

This will take some adjustments. Steve had previously been thinking of them as mostly-free agents living under the same roof and helping each other out on shared goals, but Thor’s joining them underlines those shared goals more firmly, and it’s time to start thinking about proper training, battle plans, and the like.

The morning after Thor moves in, Steve corners Tony over breakfast for a discussion. Steve has everyone’s routines (sans Thor’s) mostly figured out, and he knows roughly when to hang around the dining area for Tony to show up bleary-eyed and in search of coffee and the smoothie blender.

“So,” Steve says, when Tony sits down at the table. “I have some ideas about training exercises.”

“No,” Tony says. “You’re the boss. You figure it out and let the rest of us know.”

“I am figuring it out. I’m just running it by you first.”

“For what?” Tony rubs one eye and squints at him with the other. “A second opinion? Wouldn’t Natasha be better for that?”

“You’re more thorough about poking holes in my suggestions.”

Tony stares at Steve, open with his disgruntlement. “I thought that when I handed over my company I’d never have morning meetings again.”

“This isn’t a morning meeting.” Steve pushes Tony’s coffee towards his hand, and waits for Tony to take a gulp. “It’s a discussion over breakfast, and you’re allowed to walk out any time you want.”

“Not true. If I walk away, you’ll just come after me like a bad stench.” Tony squints at the tablet Steve has in front of him, opened up to the light grey of a word processor. “You have notes. What time did you get up?”

“My usual.”

“You made notes while running. Logical.” 

“Tony,” Steve says patiently, “you can’t expect me to believe that _you_ don’t already have some plans about how this team-up can work on the long-term.”

Tony takes a slow, dramatic chug of his mostly-green smoothie. “I thought we agreed that it’s a good thing that I defer to others on occasion.”

“Are you just stalling until you’re completely awake?”

“ _You_ could’ve waited until I _am_ completely awake!” Tony rolls his head side-to-side, and shakes his shoulders in muscle stretches. “You’re just that excited, huh.”

“It is pretty exciting,” Steve admits. “And I know we can be great. All of us.”

“Fine.” Tony waves a hand at him, imperious. “Proceed.”

So they talk: Steve with his ideas, and Tony commenting and making noises of disdain whenever he feels like it. Tony’s excited, too – he’s been thinking about this since the Chitauri – but he’s also wary, perhaps only now realizing that planning around tech is vastly different than planning around people.

But that’s what Steve’s here for. The rewards are tremendous, and they can do a great deal more together than they could alone. It takes a little prodding, but soon enough Tony’s swept up right there with Steve, tossing possibilities back and forth with enthusiasm.

Bruce arrives just as Tony’s borrowed Steve’s tablet to sketch out some training drones.

“Morning,” Steve says, while Tony grunts a greeting in Bruce’s direction.

“Oh, you’re talking business,” Bruce says. “I guess we have to.”

“Join us?” Steve says. When Bruce starts to protest, Steve adds: “Not saying you need to consider fieldwork yet, but you are part of the team.”

“I’ve talked to him about taking on a supervisory role,” Tony says, still sketching.

Bruce sits at the table, putting the day’s paper and a bowl of cereal in front of him.  “I haven’t said yes.”

“You’re going to,” Tony says.

“You don’t have to,” Steve tells Bruce. “Oh, Thor! Good morning.”

“Indeed it is a good morning,” Thor says, marching into the room. “Don’t trouble yourselves. I will make myself at home.”

“Uh, maybe you should—” Bruce scrambles to his feet, rushing to Thor’s side before he can forage through the cabinets by himself.

Steve returns his attention to Tony’s sketching, and it’s then that he notices. It’s subtle, and Tony’s slouching in his chair hasn’t changed, but he’s more alert. His eyes are no longer the half-lidded distant they become whenever he’s working out a problem simultaneously with brain and hands. Steve turns away a little, as though browsing Bruce’s paper, and it’s in doing so that sees Tony’s angling his own head to observe Thor and Bruce’s friendly debate on common area food ownership.

Thor’s dressed in Earth casual wear. Clint and Natasha took him shopping yesterday, and here are the results: Thor down to the thin layers of a cotton shirt and drawstring pants, with his bare feet underneath. It should be nothing out of the ordinary, except that before this they’d only ever seen Thor in his dramatic, battle-ready Asgardian armor.

That’s enough to make this a novel sight.

At least, Steve _thinks_ it’s the novel aspect that has Tony expending a mighty amount of attention on the way Thor’s standing, one hand at a hip and the other gesturing broadly at the fridge. That said, there’s no cause for Tony to still be watching when Thor walks past their table, over to the far counter where there are bags of different types of coffee beans to be pondered over.

When Tony does, eventually, return the entirety of his focus to the tablet, he also purses his lips in a silent whistle meant for no one but himself.

Steve frowns.

 

* * *

 

The first weeks of having a full Avengers roster again are not bad. Fury asks for help out West, so they check that out. Maria and Tony are still building their lead list on Hydra cells, so they check that out, too. In between, they break up into smaller teams for their overarching scepter investigation, and Thor gets plenty of Midgard sight-seeing under his belt.

There are a few close calls, but nothing anywhere near the scale of the Chitauri invasion, which at least proves that they can get along when there’s no greater threat hanging over their heads. They learn more about each other, find new rhythms in fighting, and figure out some hard limits before time outs are required.

A part of Steve thinks he should be more cautious about this exercise after what went down with SHIELD, but this is different. The Avengers are different, where every single one of them is so very open about who they are and what they want of the world, even as they keep segments of themselves locked up tight (the difference being that they’re also open about the fact that they _have_ segments of themselves locked up tight).

Steve once thought that the best he could hope for was to have Natasha at his back, and Clint at hers. But no – Bruce, Thor and Tony’s very, _very_ different viewpoints mesh with theirs in ways that Steve is nothing but pleased to discover.

Bruce is man who’s been through the hell and has channeled that into new, deceptively mild-mannered purpose. Thor has seen things the rest of them barely comprehend, but he keeps himself approachable, with energy that is downright infectious and makes everyone view their assumptions in new light.

Then there’s Tony, for whom all it takes is to be accepted into his inner bosom is to pass an esoteric and no doubt bizarre test of character, which probably involves the ability to tell the difference between his talking bullshit for fun and his talking bullshit to cover something he’s trying not to say out loud. And once you are accepted into that inner bosom, it’s ride or die. (Fly or die?)

Steve’s proud of them. Not merely for what they can do, but for who they are. Sure, they’re not perfect, and they may not all be best friends across the board, but they don’t have to be.

There is a blemish on the scene, though, which has nothing to do with how they get along as people or how they function as a team. Annoyingly, this seems to be a blemish to Steve alone, for no one else appears to notice, nor care.

It’s not a big deal. That almost makes it worse, because Steve _knows_ it’s not a big deal and doesn’t deserve much thinking about. Yet it’s there, and makes itself known every so often like a badly-stitched seam.

It’s to do with Tony.

Who’s fine, and doing well in the team, and has not started any fights that any of them won’t help finish (to be fair, everyone except Bruce is just as likely to start fights). He’s a pretty cool guy, imperfections and all, so it’s kinda jarring that it should bother Steve every time that Tony checks Thor out.

Thor’s a specimen. When Steve thinks of the baseline of the modern world having shifted, putting Thor on the field shoves the bell curve right out of whack. This is great, and sometimes just plain hilarious – Steve always happy to help people take pictures with Thor when they’re in the city together – so it really shouldn’t be a big deal that Tony is among the many in the world who pause to admire fine art, as it were.

Maybe it rankles because Tony doesn’t really bother with the others. Bruce and Clint appear to occupy another category, and although Natasha less so, Tony’s long steered clear of her even after he’d broken up with Pepper.

It’s an irritation that shouldn’t exist at all, and made worse by Steve’s being more irritated at himself than either Tony or Thor. He can’t even say that Tony does it all the time. He’s only caught Tony doing it a handful of times in the past weeks; one of them was when Thor flexed his biceps to threaten Clint into braiding his hair, and who _wouldn’t_ look in a situation like that, right?

Well, besides Steve, who’d been looking at Tony at the time.

 

 

* * *

 

They don’t always travel for missions. Tony still has Stark Industries-related business on occasion, Steve takes personal time to follow-up on possible Bucky leads, and so on. Still, it’s a nice and unexpected surprise when Thor invites all of them to go with him to London.

Jane’s the keynote speaker for a major particle physics conference and Thor, proud as he is, would like at least some of his friends to attend. The Quinjet is inappropriate and Tony scoffs at the idea of flying commercial, so he, Steve, Thor and Natasha fly in one of Tony’s planes, and get set up in a hotel near the conference center.

Steve’s been to Europe since he’d come out of the ice, but he’d gone on SHIELD business and had little leisure time. Even if he did, he wouldn’t have stayed at a swanky hotel or gone to a formal cocktail party, both of which are on this trip’s agenda.

The conference opens tomorrow morning, but the VIP side of the attendees gather for evening drinks slash networking the evening before. Jane said they were welcome, so here they are.

Or at least, Steve’s finally here – he’s a little late walking through the doors because he’d only realized his suit got wrinkled once he’d unpacked and had to get that fixed. Once inside, he’s surprised to find the medium-sized conference room has been dolled up to look pretty much like a ballroom. It’s seems a little fancy for a science conference, but he then spots Tony by the bar, looking perfectly at home, so this is probably normal?

Tony perks up Steve’s approach, and grabs two glass flutes from the bar before trotting over. “Take one, talk to me.”

“Is that multiple choice?” Steve asks.

“Ha. Just—” Tony waves a hand vaguely at Steve, “—exude your aura. The impressive, All-American Cap one. Yeah, that’s it, good.”

Steve thinks he just looks confused, but who knows. “Are you hiding from someone?”

“Please.” Tony’s wearing his red-tinted glasses to match the dark red shirt under his suit and had his hair combed back. The overall result comes off a bit much for an evening like this, though then again everything about Tony is a bit much. “They weren’t expecting us, so some people are starting to get a _little_ excited about it and there’s this very intense push-pull going on in the room where some of ‘em are just dying to say hello, and others are just goddamned mad that we could be stealing their thunder. And that’s even before the _actual_ thunder shows up.”

Steve does another sweep of the room, but can only find Natasha, who seems by all accounts to be enjoying the conversation she’s in. “Where is Thor?”

“Jane, probably. Which reminds me.” Tony leans in, voice low. “Here’s my game plan for tomorrow. Jane’s speech is at 9, right? When that’s done, we ditch and head over to the Tate. You’ve been? Sorry, have you been in _this_ century?”

“We’re not ditching,” Steve says.

“Natasha won’t mind, she’ll eat fish ‘n chips, or whatever it is she does. And you’re going to have better luck getting Mjolnir off Thor than getting Thor away from Jane while we’re here, so I’m ditching and you’re coming with, and we’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

Steve chokes. “You’re not taking over the Tate.”

“Sure I can.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. Wait, which Tate?”

Tony shrugs. “Pick one. All of ‘em? God, Steve, live a little.”

“You’re not the first person who’s said to me, but you are the last person I’d actually listen to.”

Tony pauses, one eyebrow up as he parses this. “That’s fair. Anyway, Selvig’s over there, let’s say hi and increase his prestige.”

Steve catches Tony’s elbow as he’s about to walk away, holding him for a moment. “Are you serious about the Tate?”

“No, not serious at all, it sounds boring as the dickens.” Tony pulls out his phone and taps it active. “So you’re in, yes?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“Shh, making plans,” Tony says, typing away. “You see a waiter around? I need a top up.”

“I’ll get something from the bar.” Steve takes Tony’s flute and heads to said bar, where he spends a couple of seconds pondering what Tony would like to drink. Steve’s own preference is to avoid everything fancy because they’re mostly a waste on him, and these days Tony only ever seems to drink because it gives him something to do with his hands.

“May I offer my suggestions?” says the lady attending the bar.

“Yes, please,” Steve says.

It’s just as she’s pouring out their drinks that a ripple passes through the room. Steve turns and sure enough, Jane and Thor have arrived; Jane looking lovely and chatting animatedly at Thor, who is very pleased to be there.

It’s a charming sight – Thor really does show another side whenever Jane’s around. There’s a pang at that, too, though said pang is undercut by another thought that jolts Steve to attention.

Steve shifts his gaze to Tony, stomach tightening at the confirmation that Tony’s frozen in place, thumb hovering over his phone. Steve may not have a clear line of sight, but he knows that Tony’s not looking at Jane. Attractive though Jane is in a pantsuit, she has a 6 foot 4 warrior god in a well-tailored tux on her arm. (And judging from Jane’s face, she is perfectly fine with the room’s attention being where it is.)

It’s idiotic to be unsettled, but Steve is unsettled anyway. He has a shaky, almost hysterical thought that Thor’s not that great and Tony looks snazzier in a suit than he does, but that sounds weirdly off even in the confines of his own head. Thor _is_ attractive, and although Steve’s had his own share of being put on the spot like this, he’s never been at ease at it the way that Thor is, and that enhances the appeal of it.

Steve’s not vain. At least he doesn’t think he is? He’s pretty sure Bucky would’ve said something after he got the serum, put him in his place.

Yet something that feels a hell of a lot like vanity compels Steve to look down at himself. He’s in a nice suit of his own, which is also cut specifically for him and Natasha had said has the ability to make some people cry. But it seems stifling now, the tie in particular mocking him.

Irritated and restless, Steve grabs at the tie, yanking it out of its knots and pulling it free. He stares at the tie for a second, then stuffs it in a pocket and pops the topmost two buttons of his shirt.

“Oh,” says the bartending lady. “Uh. Your drinks, Captain.”

“Thank you,” Steve says.

He takes the drinks and head backs to Tony, whom at least has resumed tapping way on his phone.

“So,” Tony says, “I got the—” He looks up and double-takes.

“You got the what?” Steve says.

“The…” Tony’s eyes, visible behind the glasses, are glazed over. “What?”

“What?” Steve feels himself relax. “Tony?”

“Oh, I…” Tony shakes his head and licks his lips, and the knot in Steve’s stomach disappears. “What was I saying?”

“You got something.” Steve hands one of the drinks over to Tony, who’s still a little out of it. A part of Steve’s brain is yelling at him – _what the hell are you doing_ – but he overrides it, concentrating instead on how nice this moment feels. An accomplishment is an accomplishment, and Steve can at least admit to himself that he is a petty man without analyzing the need for that pettiness at all. “Besides this drink.”

“Right.” Tony ducks his head and adjusts his glasses, motion tics as he gathers himself. “Tomorrow, that’s on, we’re good. Oh, Thor and Jane just came in.”

“Did they?” Steve looks over and nods. “Right, good eye.”

The rest of the evening passes by with ease. There’s small-talk and not-so-small-talk, food that’s not too bad, and only a handful of awkward photos that are for a good cause and will generate a great deal of interest for Jane and her colleagues’ work.

The next day, Steve and Tony ditch the event (with an assist from Natasha, who really is game for it for some reason) and get some sightseeing of their own.

So overall, a good trip.

 

* * *

 

“You’re stressed,” Sam says.

“It’s nearing a year.” Steve drums his fingers on the tabletop, realizes he’s doing it, and stops. It had been Sam’s suggestions to meet at a coffee shop, so they’ve commandeered a window table with as much privacy as possible, Steve’s tablet in front of him. “I know that as the Winter Soldier he can disappear into thin air, but at the very least I want to know that he’s alive and well.”

“It’s not like he doesn’t know how to contact you if he needs to,” Sam points out.

“Needs to,” Steve echoes. “Not _wants_ to.”

Sam nods. “I know that hurts.”

“Yeah.” Steve leans back, sighing. “You gonna tell me I have to respect his choices?”

“Nah, I’m done with that. I’m going to head back to DC for a bit, unless you need me here.”

“We could use another pair of wings at the Tower. I’ve mentioned that before.”

Sam hums, noncommittal. “One day, maybe. Not sure if I’m up for that kind of scrutiny just yet. _But_. That’s not the only reason you’re stressed.”

“I’m not changing my mind,” Steve says firmly. “It would’ve been well within Tony’s rights to wash his hands of the whole thing, but he’s gone above and beyond. I’m not pushing anymore.”

“You’re still surprised he’s helped you at all.” Sam shakes his head, smiling. “Don’t know why, from the way you talk ‘bout the guy.”

“Yes, well.” Steve had been so blasé about it, too; accepting Tony’s help so quickly after dropping the info about his parents’ death. It seemed to make sense at the time, what with Tony wanting to get to the root of the hit on his parents as much as Steve wanted to find Bucky. But after all that work all their leads have gone cold, and Steve doesn’t have it in him to ask Tony for more.

“There it is,” Sam says.

Steve frowns. “What?”

“You and Stark. You’re getting on pretty good these days, right? From what I hear.”

“Can’t complain.” Then that thought – that stray little blemish – pings again, and Steve takes a deep breath. “Actually, I can. There’s this – it’s just – I know it’s not…”

Sam laughs. “Take your time, then.”

Steve stares out the window for a long moment. It’s a beautiful day outside, the city busy and bustling. Steve should find it soothing, or at least as soothing as Sam’s presence, but they do little to ease how restless and foolish Steve feels over this nothing. Sam may judge, but at least won’t judge _that_ much.

“Thor’s a handsome fella, isn’t he?” Steve says.

Sam shrugs. “If you’re into that.” When Steve laughs, Sam adds, “Just saying.”

But that’s the rub, though, isn’t it? Tony _is_ into that. And Steve can’t even blame him for it, because Thor’s a great guy on top of looking the way he does. Yet Steve still _wants_ to blame him, or Thor, or both of them, when there’s nothing on the bottom line worth blaming for. The only person who’s bothered with Tony’s behavior is Steve, which makes no sense because he’s perfectly fine with Tony checking _him_ out and that’s the same—

Wait.

It’s not the same at all.

“Fuck me,” Steve says quietly.

“Whoa.” Sam coughs, startled. “That escalated.”

“Shit.” It’s been years since Steve’s gotten dizzy at doing nothing more strenuous than sitting up suddenly, but here it is. He takes a handful of quick, steadying breaths. “Damn it.”

“We going through the whole dictionary now?”

“Thor’s not the problem,” Steve tells Sam. “It’s Tony.”

“All right,” Sam says. “It’s Stark. What about Stark?”

“You know how sometimes you can look painting you’ve been known for years and have studied back to front, but that one day you change the angle a little and it becomes something completely different?”

Sam nods, solemn. “Stark’s a painting?”

“Stark’s a painting.”

“A really attractive painting that you’d like to get to know better.”

Steve jerks in surprise and turns a scowl at Sam.

“You’re frighteningly easy to read sometimes, man,” Sam says. “Not my fault. At least your work’s done for you.”

Steve, who had been about to threaten Sam with the promise of bodily harm if he breathes one word of this to Nat, snaps his mouth shut in surprise. He swallows around a too-tight throat, managing to choke out: “What?”

“You hang out all the time,” Sam points out.

“With the other Avengers.”

“Really?” Sam scoffs. “Stark takes you – and _only_ you – to shows, for food, for that thing at the gallery—”

“That’s only because Bruce doesn’t like leaving the Tower.”

Sam drops his coffee mug on the table with a loud _thump._ “You know what. I am going back to DC today, I do not have time for this, thank you for the coffee but I am out.” He stands up and pops his cap back on while Steve gapes in disbelief. “Good luck.”

 

* * *

 

Sam’s wrong, of course. He doesn’t know Tony very well, and knows even less how Tony treats the people around him day-to-day. Tony compartmentalizes as much as Steve does, and whatever appreciation Tony may have for Steve as a friend is different from how he thinks of Steve as a colleague, which is different from how he thinks of Steve as an object to admire.

Absolutely none of this is new.

The only thing new is Steve’s standing in these proceedings. On the one hand, it’s nice to know the source of his irritation of late, but on the other hand, he now knows the source of his irritation to date and has to figure out how to box that up, too.

Frankly speaking, Steve doesn’t know the first thing about going after a guy like Tony, let alone if he wants to go after a guy like Tony. Wanting someone is a far cry from being capable of actually _having_ them, and although Steve thinks (here’s that vanity again speaking) he could be a decent partner, it took work to get a good friendship between them going. Anything more than that seems like overkill, shooting for the moon, asking for trouble.

Better to hang back first, gather more intel, scope the field with his newfound lenses. Steve walks away from his meeting with Sam resolved to do exactly this.

Said resolution lasts for exactly two days, until the unveiling of the revamped Tower.

 

* * *

 

The unveiling is a big deal, and a declaration that they’re here to stay for the foreseeable future. The renovations have been going off and on since even before Steve returned to New York, but he did return in time to help Tony design some of the finishings on the new upper levels.

On the day itself, the whole team gathers on the rooftop of a hotel opposite the tower – booked by Tony, of course – so they can watch when the renovation curtain is pulled away. Fury and Hill are here, too, as are a couple of other friends, but it’s a mostly-private affair. The whole city will see the new look, but they are gathered here for a shared moment to contemplate what it took to get here and where they’re going next.

At least, that’s one angle. Clint says he’s just here for the food, and that’s also fine.

“It’d be nice if it were just this,” Natasha says. “Maria’s pushing for a press conference, and we will have to give one eventually.”

“You can handle it, if you’re up for it,” Steve says.

“You’re aware how deeply ironic it is for a former spy to become the face of a very public superhero organization.” Natasha shrugs. “All right, why not.”

“Can think of it as expanding your skillset. That’s always useful.”

Steve casts his eye over the floor. The long snacks table, along with smaller tables and chairs, have all been arranged on one side of the hotel’s pool, with a canopy near the back in case it rains. Everyone’s mostly milling around, but Fury’s in one of the chairs, a drink in one hand but managing to look for all the world as if he’s commandeering a helicarrier.

Then there’s Tony, who’s split off a little ways from the rest of the group and is talking with someone on his phone. It doesn’t look too serious but he’s rolling his eyes, annoyed, and the sight should probably not trigger a swell of emotion in Steve’s chest the way it does.

“I’m just going to—” Steve says.

“Yep,” Natasha says. “Go _right_ ahead.”

As Steve makes his way towards Tony, he thinks about how strong emotions beget other strong emotions, and how their first reactions to each other had perhaps laid the path down to this. Because every positive look and word from Tony these days feels like a gift, and one that’s never to be taken for granted, ever.

Of course, just as Steve’s thinking all of this, that’s when Thor has to make his Mjolnir-assisted entrance, landing on the far side of the rooftop in full Asgardian regalia.

Tony looks over in that direction, and in this case it’s a perfectly innocent movement that has nothing whatsoever to do with appreciating Thor’s form, if only because Thor’s too far away for Tony to actually see any detail of interest. But Steve’s been a little on edge ever since the talk with Sam, so for his own pleasant thoughts to be cut through by this _right now_ , he’s maybe, possibly, suddenly feeling a little fragile.

Certainly _something_ seems to get knocked out of place somewhere in his head, which has him stumbling on his feet (later he cannot swear if it was on purpose on not), tipping over and landing right in the pool.

It’s not that cold, so it’s only the shock of water impact that has Steve needing two strong kicks to resurface, gasping for air. Someone’s laughing, which Steve concedes is deserved.

“That happened way sooner than I thought it would,” Clint says.

“I can still throw you in,” Natasha says.

“Half an hour after eating, Nat,” Clint says. “You don’t want me to _die_ in there, do you?”

Steve gets a grip on the edge of the pool, only to be startled by a hand dropping into his line of vision. He looks up and there’s Tony – grinning, cellphone nowhere in sight and offering a helping hand.

“Don’t say anything.” Steve lets Tony help haul him out, and glares down at his feet. “Do you think there’s enough time for—”

“Nope,” Tony says cheerfully. “It’s coming down now.”

“Hey, everyone!” Bruce yells. “Here it comes!”

So it is that Steve stands there, hair plastered to his head and sopping wet, as they watch the curtain be pulled clear of the tower. The bright blue A glows even in daylight. Steve should probably say something meaningful at this point, but mostly he’s thinking about how uncomfortable he’s going to be walking back home.

“Group photo!” Tony shouts. “Everyone get in here.”

“Tony, come on—” Steve says, but he’s is startled into compliance by Tony’s arm around his waist, pulling him close just as the others congregate around them. Natasha and Bruce are by Steve’s right, Clint and Thor by Tony’s left, the Tower behind them, and Thor holding Tony’s phone up in the air to snap a shot.

“Excellent,” Thor says, after checking that the photo is good. “Nice touch, Captain. We should enlarge this image and put it in a place of honor in the Tower.”

Steve’s waist is still tingling from Tony’s hand, so he just manages, “It’ll be an interesting conversation piece.”

“It’s a good omen,” Bruce says. “A little off-script, but aren’t we always?”

“I’ll get a change of clothes from the staff,” Tony says. Steve starts to insist that it’s not necessary, but Tony just waves him off, already bounding away. “You guys better not finish the food before I get back!”

Steve should feel embarrassed, but it doesn’t come. In fact, it’s kinda comforting that he still gets wrong-footed around people he likes, even now. He excuses himself – Natasha pats his arm before he goes – and he heads for the hotel’s changing rooms near the back, hoping to find a towel.

“Captain,” Thor says, following him. “If I may?” At a touch, Thor removes his cape and thrusts it forward in offering.

“I couldn’t,” Steve says.

“It has seen far worse than mere chlorinated water, and is more absorbent than anything you could find on Midgard.” Thor drapes it over Steve’s shoulders and stand back, pleased. “I may offer other assistance, if you’ll permit me.”

The cape is surprisingly warm, and Steve tightens it around himself. “What’s that?”

“Have you considered better tailoring, in your shirts?” Thor gestures at a region near his underarms, around his belt. “The bunching here is too tight due to your arms, and it affects the pull of the whole line down your waist. I know it sounds contradictory, but if you loosen it a little, the fit would be better. Stark would appreciate it.”

Steve stiffens. “What?”

“Since you wish for Stark to pay more attention to you,” Thor says, all matter-of-fact. “This would help, I’m sure of it.”

“I…” Steve stares, and keeps on staring as Thor puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” Thor says earnestly. “I will return to the merrymaking now.” He leaves.

There’s a sharp, discordant note ringing in Steve’s head. He could blame it on the fall in the pool, or he could blame it on Thor, but when it comes down to it, it’s Steve’s fault. Everything is his fault, from surviving the ice, to moving back to New York, to spending way more time in Tony’s company than is strictly necessary.

The casualness of Thor’s comment – as though the mess in Steve’s head and resulting behavior is readable and reasonable – sets Steve off-balance all over again. It’s as if the universe is once again aligning its pieces on some unseen chessboard to attack a flaw in Steve’s decision-making.

Steve enters the changing room in a daze. He’s still in that daze not too long later, when there’s a knock on the door and Tony comes in bearing fresh clothes.

“Are you still dripping everywhere?” Tony says with a laugh. “Okay, I can’t vouch for their comfort, but these should be your size, and you’ll survive wearing them for a few hours.”

Steve takes the small pile. He vaguely registers that despite the cape, his skin’s starting to feel cold and clammy where his shirt and pants are flattened against it. He should deal with that, or at the very least kick Tony out so he can deal with it, except Steve’s head feels hollow: thoughts and half-thoughts bouncing across it without gaining purchase.

There’s also the fact that Tony is looking really handsome right now, his eyes alight and smile nothing but genuine, and Steve doesn’t want him to go away just yet.

Where’s your courage now, Rogers?

“Oh hey, be careful.” Tony comes in, and Steve’s confused until he realizes that the cape’s slipping off and Tony just wants to fold it back over his shoulder. “You’re gonna poke somebody’s eye out with those.”

“With—?” Steve looks down, finally noticing the cold’s effect on his nipples. “Ah.”

Tony isn’t even phased, though, which doesn’t seem right. Steve’s stomach swoops low, thick with disappointment for no good reason whatsoever.

“Wait,” Tony says, his tone turning sharp and urgent. “What’s wrong? Is it the fall? You getting flashes there, Cap?”

“No, that’s not…” Steve grits his teeth. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, thank you for the clothes. I’ll change.”

“Oh, so we’re deflecting now.” Tony leans back, propping himself up against the block of sinks lining the wall. “Totally a good idea to leave you by yourself.”

“Tony.”

“Steve.” Tony shrugs, unperturbed by Steve’s half-hearted attempt at glare. “I could get Natasha, if you want.”

“Can’t you leave it alone for once?” Steve snaps. “It doesn’t matter, all right? I just want to get out of my clothes and I don’t care if you look, I know it doesn’t mean anything.”

“What?” Tony says, confused. “What doesn’t mean anything?”

Steve tips his head back, staring at the ceiling as he sighs. Of course that this would be an occasion when Tony chooses to shut up and listen. When Steve dares look at Tony again, he’s doing that thing where he’s smiling but his eyes are worried, and what little self-preservation Steve has left just frays.

“I know that you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” Steve says. Panic flares in the browns of Tony’s eyes, so Steve quickly presses on: “I don’t mind, I swear. It’s just what you do, how you appreciate people you think are nice to look at.”

“Not all people.”

Steve starts. Frowns. “What?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times, as though he hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. He probably hadn’t, judging by the handful of seconds it takes for Tony to smoothen his face back into calmness. When Tony finally to speak, the words sound far too casual: “You have enhanced hearing. You heard me the first time.”

Steve stares. Tony shrugs, seemingly careless, and hopes rises in Steve’s chest.

All right. Okay. Steve can work with this.

“So I was wrong?” Steve asks.

“About what?”

“That you checking me out was just casual and not at all about me, as a specific person.”

“We’ve already established that you’re wrong about a lot of things, Steve.” Tony shrugs, though his eyes are still a tad too wide. “What’s one more, right?”

The long-dormant urge to wring Tony’s neck rears its head, except this time it’s more about Steve’s getting his hands on Tony, full-stop. How is it that this guy can be excruciatingly blunt at times and just as excruciatingly vague at others; and switching between either strategy as though his sole purpose in life is to get under Steve’s skin?

It’s a good thing that Steve’s gotten a hell of a lot better at dealing with him, then.

“Fine.” Steve pulls the cape off and puts it on the sink-table. “Don’t mind me.”

“What?” Tony’s mouth falls open when Steve starts undoing the buttons of his still-damp shirt. “Wha—what are—”

“I need to change, you said so yourself.” Steve drags the shirt off, off the shoulders and down his arms, while Tony makes a garbling noise. The undershirt goes next, leaving Steve’s skin blessedly cool against air. “Oh, now you don’t want to look at me?”

Tony’s turned his face away, hand over his eyes. “Oh my God.”

“I’m giving you permission and everything.” Steve wrings both shirt and undershirt in the sink. “You sure?”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Tony laughs.

“Because I’m very okay with it.”

“No,” Tony moans. “Oh no—”

“You’re right, my nipples do look hard enough to poke someone’s eyes out.”

“Steve!”

Tony’s shoulders are shaking, though his laughter has thinned into small, wheezing gasps. Steve moves along the line of sinks and settles close to Tony’s side, making enough noise that Tony knows exactly where he is. It’s the most natural thing in the world for Steve to take Tony’s wrist and gently pull it away from his face.

When Tony opens his eyes, they settle immediately on Steve’s face, enthralled and not at all distracted by Steve’s shirtlessness. It seems a little strange to think of Tony as pretty, but no other word comes to mind when Tony’s like this, unashamed and unguarded with his fondness. He’s not even looking at Steve all that different from how he normally does – just _more_.

“You okay there?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.” Tony’s eyes flutter shut when Steve leans in to kiss him.

Tony’s lips are warm, smooth, and the brush of facial hair tingles around Steve’s mouth. Steve means the kiss to be an introduction, or even just a suggestion of what he’d be into, but Tony opens his mouth and sighs, and the kiss becomes something else. Tony unfurls against him, strong arms winding around Steve’s shoulders and pulling him close, as though determined to plant roots right here and now.

Steve inhales sharply, heat rising inside him as his senses are flooded. Still he hesitates, not wanting to get Tony’s clothes wet, but Tony’s not having any of that. He makes an annoyed sound and hauls Steve in, his hands hot on Steve’s bare skin.

 _Forward of you_ , Steve would say if his mouth were not otherwise occupied. But it is occupied, as is the rest of him in processing the press of another body against his – Tony’s body, specifically, which had always been at a remove even with friendship. Tony is strong and lithe and solid in Steve’s arms, and Steve runs his hands over Tony’s clothed back, intrigued by the feel of his muscles under his palms.

They kiss, and kiss some more, until Steve thinks he has Tony’s mouth memorized with his tongue. He could very much do this all day.

Surprisingly, it’s Tony who pulls back. He looks down at where Steve’s tented his pants in interest. “Well, whaddya know.” Tony grins up at him. “I still got it.”

“We can stop,” Steve says, voice hoarse to his own ears.

“I don’t mind,” Tony says airily. “Can take care of that for you, if you want.”

Steve shakes his head a little, trying to clear it. He remembers where they are, why they’re here, and that that’s Thor’s cape bearing witness over there. “That’d be nice but this place is less than ideal.”

“There’ll be rolling around in thousand-thread cotton sheets later.” Tony wiggles his fingers in the air for a second before reaching for Steve’s pants. “Wait, there will be a later, right? This isn’t a one-off?”

Steve thinks. “Mmm.”

Tony narrows his eyes, hands still on Steve’s fly. “Steve.”

“Definitely not a one-off.” Steve thinks he should perhaps tone it down; sound less affectionate, or at the very least stop smiling so damned much. But it cannot be done, not with Tony making faces at him, so Steve merely rests his forehead against Tony’s and breathes. “You’re really something.”

Tony hums a tune of Tony-at-work, though in this case said work involves opening Steve’s pants and getting his cock out. At the first touch of Tony’s fingers on his shaft, Steve’s breath punches out of him, shocked – that’s Tony’s hand and Tony’s calloused fingertips. It’s a surreal moment, almost out of a dream, though proof of its realness is when Tony whistles at his prize and says, “Okay, gonna have to do more jaw exercises in the future. Got it.”

Then Tony starts stroking him, his grip firm but experimental. Small squeezes along the length, followed by longer strokes to the base and back up to the head. Steve stays as close to Tony as he can, holding onto Tony’s waist for support while Tony works him good.

“Oh,” Steve whispers, nuzzling Tony’s face. “That’s very nice. Do you, uh… do you need some help, too?”

“Gee, would you?” Tony says, with such cheek that Steve is for a second tempted to tear Tony’s pants open. But that’s not possible right now – he’ll do that back home, when he has all the time in the world to make Tony regret everything. Which he will.

For now, Steve is polite. He helps Tony push his pants and boxers down, and spends a second or so processing that that’s Tony’s erect cock, when the most naked he’d ever seen Tony before had been in his workout clothes. Steve could draw that – _wants_ to draw that – but the thought’s derailed by Tony sliding his hands gently over Steve’s abs and up to his chest.

There is greed in Tony’s touching him, but there’s caution there, too. For all that this is new and unexpected for Steve, it must be more so from Tony’s perspective. Tony pauses his touching, and his glance up at Steve is the most hesitant Steve’s ever seen him.

“I know,” Steve says. “You like me for me. It’s not just this.”

Tony swallows, discomfited at Steve’s laying it down like that. It’s okay, though. They can work on it.

“So, uh,” Tony says, “it’d be nice to take our time, but like you said, not the place. How about we just board the express?”

“You’re the boss,” Steve says. “This time.”

Tony laughs and, curling a finger in the air for Steve to follow, backs up to the line of the sinks behind him.

It is with Tony’s helpful urging that Steve learns how nice it is for them to rub off against each other – Tony sitting propped up on the edge of the marble, his legs tight around Steve’s body. Steve moves in the space Tony’s made for him between his thighs, carefully at first, and then harder when Tony moans.

Their dicks don’t line up but that’s all right, Steve’s having a good time rubbing against the hard muscles between Tony’s thighs. It’s not even just about getting his dick on Tony, either – it’s Tony’s entire body pressed close and intimate that has Steve’s skin tingling with want. Steve forgets sometimes that his body can feel good like this; a work hazard, perhaps, but one he hopes is soon to be less of an issue.

There’s Tony hands on Steve’s shoulders and in his hair, there’s Tony’s running his teeth over Steve’s neck, there’s the sexy incongruity of Tony still wearing a shirt, and the cotton rubbing against Steve’s nipples.

“Oh Steve,” Tony gasps. “Steve, yeah, that’s – yeah.”

In the mirror behind Tony, Steve can see them: the pulse of Tony’s back muscles as he moves, the sheer suggestiveness of Steve’s motions grinding forward. Their thrusting against each other echoes other activities in a promise for the near future, too.

The pleasure builds. Steve tries to pay attention to everything that’s going on but that becomes more and more difficult as Tony writhes and whimpers and digs his heel into the small of Steve’s back.

“Just – c’mon, Steve—” Tony grits out.

“Harder?” Steve braces a hand on the marble and snaps his hips. Tony yelps and claws at Steve’s back – a clear approval – so Steve keeps at it, ratcheting up the pace until he thinks he could go mad with it, rutting at Tony in desperation for relief.

It comes like a wave, blooming hot and sharp from low in Steve’s belly. Steve fumbles at the rush of it, knees knocking as he groans and rides it out. He hasn’t felt this clumsy for a while, and has the ridiculous urge to apologize, but Tony’s just mouthing wet kisses his face and humming happily.

“Now you give me this,” Tony whispers, voice tight. He takes Steve’s free hand and guides it down, settling it against the crevice of his ass. “Just a little, that okay?”

Steve murmurs an affirmative and slides his fingers in. Just a tease at first, though that’s enough to make Tony shudder, and then a firm push to find and brush his fingertips against the opening. The angle’s not good but Tony doesn’t seem to mind, his legs tightening again around Steve as he moves back and forth – cock against Steve’s stomach, and ass against Steve’s hand.

“You’re incredible,” Steve breathes. “This is – wow. I’m so glad I seduced you.”

“You—” Tony says, though he hasn’t paused his frantic rocking back and forth. “ _What?_ ”

Steve noses the space by Tony’s ears. “I have the best ideas.”

“You did not—” Tony stiffens, head tossed back and mouth falling open. The orgasm transforms his face, from what almost looks like agony to sheer bliss. He’s beautiful.

While Tony catches his breath, Steve keeps touching him. It’s just as much for Tony’s pleasure as it is for Steve’s: there is contentment to be found in drawing his fingers over Tony’s eyebrows, along the lines of his beard, tracing the musculature of his neck when he tilts his head.

“You,” Tony says, once he can speak again, “cannot take credit for this.”

“Only one of us can,” Steve points out. “And it obviously can’t be you, because you didn’t do anything.”

“I…” Tony clenches his jaw. “It was my constantly checking you out that got you to think about me in less than platonic ways.”

“Tony, you are a unique person in many aspects, but not in that.”

“Goddammit, that’s true.” Tony darts forward, dropping a kiss with a casualness that makes Steve grin. “It’s still a win-win though, isn’t it?”

“I’d say so.”

It’s with a great deal of difficulty that Steve finally disentangles himself from Tony, and the pair of them get cleaned up. The cape is gathered up properly, Steve has his change of clothes, and Tony’s clothes are only very mildly messed up, and so still usable. That said, even if Tony’s clothes were less salvageable neither of them would particularly care; another shared trait between them is a relative lack of shame for this. It’s another nice thing to find that they have in common.

Outside, the small party is still going on, and by this point Clint and Thor have already found their way into the pool (of their own accord). If anyone noticed Steve and Tony’s lengthy absence, no one shows it save Natasha, who makes deliberate eye contact with Steve, sets a hand to forehead in what’s maybe meant to be a fetching manner, and mouths: _Oh Steve_.

To that, Steve shrugs. He feels lit up from the inside, sheer happiness pressing at the seams, so he cannot possibly care about any ribbing anyone could send his way.

That, plus he need only glance over in Tony’s direction to confirm that the feeling’s mutual. Tony, who’s picking through the food on the snacks table, still looks halfway between shell-shocked and walking on air, and doesn’t seem to really register what he’s putting on his plate.

After a few seconds, Tony realizes Steve’s watching him, and looks up.

All this time, Tony’s been subtle in his glances. Subtle is for yesterday.

So, Steve tilts his head and lets his gaze move slowly, down from Tony’s face, over his chest, and lower still following the shape of his ass. Tony doesn’t blush, but it’s a very, _very_ close thing, and he covers it up by stuffing food into his mouth.

The future is very bright indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post!](http://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/178479425661/admiring-the-scenery-10227-words-by-scaramouche)
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> Also, feel free to let me know about typos/dropped words, either in the comments or via my tumblr. It's all appreciated!


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